Downfall
by Aquaberry Salamander
Summary: In a forever changed world, the heroes of the Sorceress War must find their peace amidst the wreckage left behind. There can never be peace for the sorceress, however, nor her knight. Post-game. Pairings SLxRH, IKxST, ZDxLG. Rated M for language and eventual violence and adult content.
1. Regrets of a Former Forest Owl Princess

**Chapter 1: Regrets of a Former Forest Owl Princess**

**Timber-Balamb Train, SeeD Private Carriage**

**8:20PM, January 14**

_Witch!_

_Murderer!_

_Whore!_

The jeers and ugly words from the Galabadians crowding the entrance to the Caraway mansion yesterday haunted her, chasing themselves around her weary mind in an endless circle. While her common sense may have told her that the protestors did not know her, Rinoa Heartilly, that they only knew the propaganda and gossip that was spreading like wildfire throughout the country, being personally confronted with that anger was… frightening. Hurtful.

Rinoa paced back and forth in the SeeD carriage, glad for once to be left alone. She had wished that Squall could have been with her to attend the meeting that her father had requested. Cid, Quistis, and Xu had strongly objected to Squall's presence, arguing that it would be tantamount to an endorsement from Garden in support of father's actions. Now, she found herself agreeing with them. Naively, she had hoped that her father had simply wanted to begin bridging the gap that had grown since the day that Julia Heartilly had been struck and taken away from them. She laughed bitterly. How wrong she had been.

The protesting Galbadians – traumatised civilians – had targeted Rinoa because of her father. Fury Caraway seized control of her home nation following the end of the recent Sorceress War, to the outrage of the majority of the Galbadian population. In his usual blunt and direct fashion, he had run roughshod over any attempts to wrest power, moving quickly to establish order in the troubled state.

A greedy, corrupt, and violent man using the threat of unleashing his daughter, the infamous sorceress, to seize control of Galbadia. That was all that they could see. Rinoa, as a sorceress known to have romantic ties to the Commander of the powerful SeeD army, was thought by the public to be little more than a power-hungry whore, sleeping with those who could further her father's goals and threatening his enemies with her steadily growing sorceress magic.

There was a thread of truth to the belief. Her father had summoned her to Galbadia to formally request her aid in 'peace keeping efforts' by 'raising morale'. It was a simple tactic, display the sorceress to the people, with all of the implied threat left unspoken. _I'm his weapon_, Rinoa thought, _no better than a guided missile._

Although Rinoa had refused his request, her visit accomplished much the same purpose, providing a visible to sign to the people of her support of the Caraway regime. Exhausted, she closed her dark brown eyes and slumped down into the cushioned bench seat against the wall. She listened to the low hum of the train engine, grateful for a moment of privacy before her return to Balamb Garden. Two tears escaped from her eyes, running down her pale cheeks. This wasn't supposed to be. She was no Adel, no Ultimecia, she was just Rinoa. Rinoa Heartilly, the girl who would have done anything to free Timber. The girl who loved a fighter named Seifer, who now loved a warrior named Squall. The girl who fought with her father, who missed her mother, who loved old libraries, who wanted to travel the world, and right wrongs. But that was not what the world's cruel eyes saw when they looked at Rinoa Heartilly.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Thanks for reading! This game is set approximately one year after the conclusion of Final Fantasy VIII, and follows mostly established canon. It's my first foray into the fanfiction world, so please review! Constructive criticism and feedback are hugely appreciated. :)

**Rinoa's Parentage:** _Final Fantasy VIII Ultimania _and the _FFVIII Info Corner _confirm that General Fury Caraway (his first name is never provided in-game) and Julia Heartilly are Rinoa's parents. Julia is cited as dying in a car accident when Rinoa was five years of age.

**Timeline:** The chronology for FFVIII is never specified in game, so I've gone with the assumption that their world works on the standard Gregorian calendar system.


	2. Instructor Quistis Trepe

**Chapter 2: Instructor Trepe**

**Balamb Garden, Quistis Trepe's Office**

**8:25PM, January 14**

Quistis Trepe had always considered herself to be a sensible woman. Logical, calm, and intellectual.

He had broken through and unwittingly penetrated that self-contained shell of logic and professionalism. Broken it without thought or even the slightest hint of awareness that he had done so, and then just as carelessly broken her heart.

Her heartache had been easier to deal with when they had been fighting for their lives. She had ruthlessly compartmentalised her feelings, focusing only on the satisfying feeling of victory at the end of each battle and the challenge of the next one. Now, the battle was long over. Each day at Balamb Garden meant another painful moment discussing projects, progress, and goals with Squall, or watching the happiness on his face from the sideline as he stole a quiet moment with Rinoa.

Other people would not have recognised the happiness behind his stoic mask. The slightest softening around his grey-brown eyes, a half-smile quirking at the corners of his lips, or the subtle ways that his hand found Rinoa's, even for the briefest of touches. She, who had watched Squall so closely for so long, realised what those signs meant. Squall Leonhart was in love, and not with her.

She sighed, seated at her desk, her head in her hands. Bittersweet torture though it was to be so close to him - to be seen as his _sister_, God that word galled - she had her duty. Sheafs of paper peppered with notes and requests, reports, and requisitions beckoned. The paperwork that kept the Garden functioning had to be attended to.

She retrieved the first piece of paper before her. The cafeteria's most recent invoice sat atop her in tray, awaiting approval and filing. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she slid her glasses on and skimmed the sheet of paper. As always, the hot dog order was staggering. She ruefully smiled and as she stamped and initialled the piece of paper, thought of Zell. He had matured remarkably quickly following the War, surprising even her with his calmed temper and restraint. He was still energy embodied, but that restless quality was tempered and focused. Quistis suspected that his partner, with her shy, sweet, and bookish ways, was the reason. Quistis had never thought in the fifteen years that she had known Zell that he would learn gentleness and restraint.

Quistis put down the invoice, lost in a momentary reverie. Irvine was another that she had never suspected would change after their inauspicious first meeting on that Galbadian train. Oh, he was still the laconic cowboy, cocky to the end. But the lothario had retired. Selphie was the counterbalance to his calm, her whirlwind of enthusiasm generating enough energy to propel them both through life. Irvine had proposed to her six months after they had emerged, outwardly unscathed, from the time compressed world, and Selphie had shrieked so loudly that Quistis had thought her hearing would never recover. Those two had settled into their militarily skewed version of domestic bliss, moving to Trabia six months ago to assist with the reconstruction effort. Quistis still missed them, especially Selphie. She could confide in her in a way that she just couldn't with Rinoa or Xu.

Still, she was glad that Irvine and Selphie had each other. They just fit together in some intangible way that Quistis longed to have for herself. The lack of connection with another person was weighing more heavily upon her each day. She was... lonely.

_Loneliness is no excuse for not finishing this paperwork_, she thought to herself. Placing the cafeteria invoice in the out tray, she picked up the next one, a request for funding by one of the instructors to engage an ecologist to assess the viability of incorporating certain carnivorous plants into the Training Area. Quistis smirked. Now, that would be an interesting challenge for the students... She stamped it, signed it, and placed it in the out tray. Only three dozen more to go...


	3. Personal Growth

**Chapter 3: Personal Growth**

**Balamb Garden, Commander's Quarters**

**9:30PM, January 14  
><strong>

Squall Leonhart frowned. Only nineteen years old, and he already beginning to develop distinct lines from his habitual expression. His father liked to joke that they were just like his laugh lines, only inverted. He and Laguna had a long way to go, but the ice between them was gradually thawing. The catalyst had been when they visited Raine's grave together, united in mourning for the family neither had known. They had returned to the small Winhill cemetery just on four months ago, on Squall's birthday. His mother's death-day.

Edea had always kept the morbidity of the day of his birth from him in a futile effort to encourage the solemn little boy to celebrate his birthday. Squall had only a few vague memories of celebrating his birthday, mainly of fights with Seifer, jealous of the attention that Squall was receiving. He had not celebrated it since he joined the Garden, and now he never would. Not from grief - he had grieved for his lost parents long ago, back at the orphanage - but from a sense of duty and obligation to his father. He could never hurt Laguna by celebrating on the day of Raine's passing.

Laguna was still the same energetic, clumsy, overly emotional optimist that Squall had come to know from Ellone's connection sessions back before the war. It was an awkward beginning, and it had taken a while before Squall had been comfortable even talking to the man.

Laguna wanted a close father-son relationship that Squall honestly doubted he was capable of. However, they spoke every day by phone or by email, saw each other on average once a month, and their discussions grew a little longer and a little more personal each time. Squall doubted that Rinoa would consider having an hour long talk with Laguna about the latest edition of the 'Battle Series' would qualify as emotional growth. But to him, it was, he considered with an internal grin.

He decided to pick up the phone and give his father a call now. Maybe he could help with this... problem. Lifting the handset, he entered Laguna's number. It would be... 1AM in Esthar. Which meant that he would likely be sitting up with Kiros and Ward planning some government thing, reminiscing, or playing poker. Sure enough, after two rings he answered.

"Squall! Great to hear from you! What's up?"

_Great to hear from you? We only talked yesterday..._ "I was hoping for some advice about a problem I've been having. Are you able to talk?"

"Yeah, man, just let me get rid of Kiros and Ward..." Squall heard muffled clicks, and the sounds of 'get out, guys!'

Squall sighed, unsure where exactly to begin. Asking for advice wasn't exactly his forte.

"Just start at the beginning, Squall," Laguna said wryly, correctly interpreting Squall's silence. "What's wrong?"

"It's just... Shit, I don't know. You've seen the protests on the news?"

"Yeah. Bad business. It's always going to be there, though. Sorceresses don't exactly have the best reputation, Edea and Rinoa's notwithstanding."

"It's not just that, it's the anger behind Caraway's coup."

"He's..." Laguna paused. Squall could easily imagine that he was scratching his head thoughtfully. "He did it for the right reasons - hell, in Esthar I did it too, so I can't be judging - but he has the backing of a sorceress."

Squall immediately started to protest. "She isn't a fan of the Galbadian military, if anything she opposes him -"

Laguna cut him off with a weary sigh. "Yeah, you know that and I know that and the handful of people still willing to be friends with her know that. All the public sees is a military government, making a lot of unpopular decisions, led by a rogue general and his daughter the sorceress. Who happens to have close connections to senior leadership of the one of the largest commercial mercenary forces in the modern world. The protests may die down in the future, but it's going to take time."

"...Fuck."

"Fuck is right. Not much you can do for now. Balamb's gotta be impartial... Caraway's going to have to go it alone."

"And Rinoa?"

Laguna sighed again, heavily. "She's got to go it alone too, Squall. You can support her, but being a sorceress... It's a lonely thing."

_She'll never be lonely... I'll be her knight_.

Silence descended between the two men. Laguna was the first to break it. "Just look after yourself. Don't get caught in the crossfire. Rinoa's going to come around soon. I know you guys have been playing house for the last year, trying to keep things normal, but..." He trailed off. "Spending some time in Esthar would be best for both of you. When you get away from the action, you can see a little more clearly. Talk to Odine."

"Odine treats her like a freak!"

"He treats her like a scientist, like a doctor. . And Odine might be able to help her answer some questions."

"I know," Squall replied. "Once she gets back from Deling I'll discuss going away for a couple of weeks. Maybe longer," he added with a disgusted sigh.

"That's my boy."

Squall said his farewells, thinking over again his discussion with Laguna and the violent protests shown outside the Caraway mansion in Galbadia. Rinoa had sent him a short message, assuring him that she was unharmed and on the Timber-Balamb train to return to the Garden, due in the following morning. After that… _Who knows_, Squall thought. What would come, would come. And they would be ready for it when it did.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

**Squall's Parentage:** It is never explicitly confirmed in-game, but FFVIII does drop some fairly significant hints that Laguna is Squall's father (the statements made by Kiros and Ward, Ellone's connection sessions between Squall and Laguna, etc.). These can of course be interpreted differently by different people. For the sake of this story, I've gone with the assumption that Laguna and Raine are indeed Squall's parents.

**Squall's Birthday:** According to the Final Fantasy Wiki, Squall's birthday is listed as the 23rd of August.


	4. The Trabia Garden Festival & Restoration

**Chapter 4: The Trabia Garden Festival & Restoration Committee**

**Trabia Garden Training Centre**

**10:00PM, January 14**

"Woohoo! Lock that one down, Irvine!" A cheerful brunette, with large green eyes, eagerly watched a battle unfolding before her, whooping with excitement.

"I'm outta ammo!" A tall, auburn haired man shouted in response. "Knock that bastard down and throw me some shells!"

"On it!"

Selphie Tilmitt bounded down from her vantage point in the frigid Trabia Garden Training Centre, brandishing her weapon with one hand and rummaging in her pocket for some spare shotgun shells with the other as she entered the fray with the snow lion currently menacing her fiancé. Irvine had reversed his shotgun, brandishing it as he would a club. Unfortunately, that shotgun-come-club needed to be used at close range – too close within range of those slashing claws the monster was swiping towards him. Irvine swung, stepped back, swung again, missing, until –

Selphie whipped her nunchaku through the air, lashing out and smartly striking the beast's front leg, driving it back and causing it to roar in pain and anger. As she swung, her other hand tossed two shells to Irvine, who swiftly grabbed them from the air. Selphie continued her assault, striking the metal bars sharply against the wounded monster as Irvine reloaded.

At last, he brought the shotgun up, levelling it against the snow lion. Selphie ducked out of range as he sent the two slugs into the monster's head. Unfortunately, she had ducked too late to avoid her dress being spattered with icy mud as the great white beast fell. She shrieked in surprise.

"Sorry, beautiful. Didn't mean to get you caught in the crossfire."

Selphie smirked. "No worries, Irvy. That makes three!"

"C'mon, that was a technicality! I only ran low on shells keeping it off of you!"

"Nope, that still qualifies. Going to try again and make the score 4-0?"

Irvine tried for a stern look that dissolved into a grin. "Nah. I can think of more fun ways to settle this score." He winked.

"Oh, really? What might those be?"

He sauntered over to her and kissed her, long, and slow, and deeply. "Let's get cleaned up and then I'll show you."

Selphie giggled, and they departed for the dorms.

* * *

><p><strong>T-Garden Staff Dorms<strong>

**7:00AM, January 15  
><strong>

_How did I ever get so lucky? _Selphie wondered, watching Irvine sleep sprawled out on their bed. She was oddly quiet for once, thinking back on all that had been for the last year. So much had happened… and for the better, in spite of the chaos. The sorceress threat was ended. Esthar was sharing its incredible technology with the world. Vinzer Deling had fallen. And her old friends, her dear old orphanage friends, were all okay. Sure, Rinoa was struggling a bit with how truly powerful she had become. And Quisty, poor thing, was still hung up on Squall, however much she protested. But on the whole, the war had brought good changes rather than bad.

There was only one regret that she had – that she had been too late to stop the missiles from reaching Trabia. _If only I'd been a little quicker, if only we'd made it into the missile base a little sooner… _The graveyard would always be there as a reminder of what had been lost, and could never be recovered.

Still, they had made enormous progress since she and Irvine had returned to Trabia. The quad was fully reconstructed, finally giving the reinstated Trabia Garden Festival Committee an opportunity to throw a party, announce to the world that Trabia was back in action, and give everyone some much-deserved R&R. Even the great Sir Laguna was going to come up from Esthar to the official re-opening of the Garden!

Irvine groaned on the bed, slowly waking up. He stretched, and pushed himself up on to the edge of bed. "Mornin', Sefie."

"Good morning, handsome!"

A beep from the intercom interrupted their kiss. Selphie grudgingly pressed the button. "What's up?"

"Selphie, Irvine, good morning," the Trabia Garden security guard greeted them. "I was wondering if you could come down to the gate. We have a refugee here, and I'm reluctant to send him in for the usual assistance."

Selphie's curiosity was piqued. "What's the problem?"

The guard paused. He was an older man, a Trabian born and bred, and not prone to being easily alarmed. If he thought something was fishy, it likely was. Turning her head, she saw Irvine already pulling on his long, brown trousers and getting ready to investigate.

"…It's easier to explain when you're here, ma'am. You'll see for yourself."

"Alrighty, we'll be there in a second!"

* * *

><p><strong>Trabia Garden, Entrance Gate<strong>

**7:30AM, January 15  
><strong>

Selphie and Irvine had all but jogged down to the T-Garden entrance, only taking a couple of moments to retrieve their coats against the bitter, cold breeze coming into from the snowy mountains. The silver haired security stood at the gate, scanning for them. There was relief in his eyes when he saw them, and he gestured for them to come into the guard hut.

"The fellow is outside. He's pretty beat up, but you know that's not unusual."

It wasn't. The steady stream of refugees from Trabia had tapered off in the last few months, but the occasional vagrant who had lost their home in the bombings found their way to the Garden, looking for a hot meal and a place to stay. Many had stayed, taking positions as construction workers and assistants, working on not only rebuilding the Garden, but rebuilding Trabia village itself.

"What's got you so worked up?" Irvine asked.

"I think he's an ex-soldier. Won't say where he came from. But he has a soldier's weapon – a gunblade – and he's not from Trabia. And if he's not from here…"

"…he's from Galbadia," Irvine finished. "In this kind of weather, we can't leave him out there."

A few renegade Galbadian soldiers had attempted to harm the shattered Garden in the earliest months of the reconstruction. As a result, the T-Garden staff and students were a little gun-shy of allowing military personnel free access of the compound.

"But –" Selphie protested.

"No buts, Selphie. If he's not on the up and up, we'll make sure he's given someplace secure to stay. But we can't turn him out into the blizzard."

Selphie scowled, but nodded tightly. Irvine winced, knowing that that look meant _discussion_ later on.

The guard took the nod as an assent. "Just wanted clearance from you, ma'am."

"Let's see him first," Irvine countered.

The guard showed them out to the main gate beyond the guard hut. A bedraggled looking man sat on a bench, with dirty, dark-blonde hair, his face and hands marked with dirt and the filth of travel. He was tall, with the look of a powerful man who had wasted away. A dark steel gunblade, almost black, with a sharply curved blade sat across his lap. He absently stroked the handle, not looking up at them.

Selphie walked over to him, heedless of the dread creeping over Irvine. He knew that blade. Knew it intimately, glimpsing it in close detail through the scope of his sniper rifle as it was wielded during a parade in Deling City a lifetime ago.

Selphie gasped. "Seifer?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

**Trabia Garden:** I always figured that Trabia Garden would be close to the town of Trabia, much like Balamb Garden. So, for the sake of this story I've assumed that there was indeed a small town near the T-Garden, which was damaged badly in the bombing by the Galbadian army.


	5. Lilacs Out Of The Dead Land

Thanks for the reviews! :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Lilacs Out Of the Dead Land<strong>

**Balamb Garden, Commander's Quarters**

**7:30AM, January 16**

Squall sat across from Rinoa, watching her closely. She said nothing, pushing the morsels of her breakfast around her plate listlessly. She had said very little since her return from Deling City, choosing to spend the majority of her time in the library, reading old historical texts regarding sorceress powers and old wars won and lost centuries ago. It wasn't like her to be this silent. She normally didn't take criticism passively.

_Get angry... _Squall thought.

_Be sad._

_Scream._

_Cry._

_Say something..._

But still she said nothing, dark brown eyes staring at the table as he finished his meal in silence. She murmured a half-hearted farewell as Squall departed to the staff office level, not meeting his eye or responding to his kiss on her cheek.

She had barely slept. Both nights since returning to the Garden she had trembled in her sleep, tossing and turning and muttering in a low, desperate voice unlike her usual one. Mostly she had murmured _no_ over and over again, but the occasional nonsense word was slipped in there. _Maleficarum, _she whispered, over and over again, _schatten_ and _maga_. It was likely it was just babble from her nightmares, but they had the sound of words belonging to other languages. Sinister words, echoing in his own mind long after Rinoa went silent. Squall had embraced her firmly, ruthlessly silencing his own internal disquiet; whispering in her ear that everything was ok, until she was at last drawn out of whatever shadowy nightmares haunted her rest and lay quiescent in his arms.

He had been sorely tempted to simply gather her into his arms and march her to Esthar, much as he had on that endless walk so long ago. Recalling his earlier conversation with Laguna, he instead settled on talking to Quistis to organise things for he and Rinoa to take some shore leave in Esthar.

In spite of the early hour the former Instructor sat behind her desk as usual, cornflower blue eyes intently focused on her computer screen. Her desk was a reflection of her mind; numerous files and documents, neatly organised into designated stacks awaiting review and filing. Clearly, whatever she was scrutinising on the monitor was not to her taste; she wore an expression of mild revulsion.

Her countenance changed as Squall entered her office. "Good morning, Squall. I trust you slept well. How is Rinoa recovering from her journey?"

"She's not doing great. The riot upset her badly."

"Understandably..." Quistis's mouth twisted with distaste. "I was reviewing the latest footage from the riots yesterday as you walked in. Her appearance at the mansion seems to have inflamed the local populace. Considering his latest speech, it seems likely that he will be imposing martial law to regain control of the city shortly."

"Has Caraway attempted to contract Garden yet?"

"No, and I doubt he will. His antipathy towards you is… well known."

"Doesn't matter. I wouldn't approve providing soldiers to the Galbadian cause, and I know you and Cid wouldn't either."

"Indeed. Still, he seems to be implying quite strongly that he has his daughter's support. I'm guessing that many would believe that he therefore has Garden's support by proxy. It was appalling of Caraway to use her that way."

"And a bad knock to Garden's public image when she returned here," Xu broke in as she followed Squall into the office. "I've requested Cid to consider issuing a formal statement clarifying Garden's position."

_The Garden Code… Section180B…__ Garden must remain neutral in all disputes between states excluding actions as defined in contractual agreements..._

"Section 180B?"

Quistis beamed at him as though he was back in her classroom, answering a particularly obscure question on a pop quiz. "Exactly."

Squall was troubled by the line of reasoning. He agreed with the logic of the B-Garden Code – it had been trained into him too deeply to question it - however in this instance it was not enough of a shield. Garden's neutrality could not protect Rinoa.

Quistis again demonstrated her unsettling knack for guessing his thoughts. "You're concerned for Rinoa?"

"Yes. A formal statement from the Headmaster won't change the fact that Rinoa's presence here is an expression of support for the sorceress." Internally, he winced as he used those latter two words. _The sorceress _was an enemy. Rinoa wasn't an enemy. _The sorceress_ was a symbol for power… power that inspired fear. Rinoa shouldn't be a symbol either, but wishing wouldn't make that so, not by a long shot. "Cid's own credibility is shot considering his marriage to Edea is now public knowledge."

"For crying out loud, she's your girlfriend, Leonhart," Xu replied. "You're proposing we kick her out?" She raised a dark eyebrow questioningly.

Squall met her stare with a neutral expression. "Don't be ridiculous. Maybe… maybe she and I could lay low for a while. Go to Esthar, spend some time with Laguna and Doctor Odine."

Xu and Quistis exchanged a look. There was pity and understanding in that look, and Squall hated it. Quistis stood from her desk chair, and walked around to stand with the two of them.

"Squall," Quistis began, laying her hand on his forearm, her tone low and compassionate and soothing. "It will be ok. Go with Rinoa, and don't be concerned about the Garden. We'll take care of things here."

The Garden would be ok. That much was certain. Still, he couldn't escape that small voice in the back of his mind. The one that reminded him of his pledge to her in the Centran flower field. The promise that he would always be her knight. Against anyone or anything. Against everyone. Everything.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter! Where do you think the story is heading? :)

**Chapter Title: **'Lilacs out of the dead land' is a line from TS Eliot's famous poem, The Wasteland. It's a poem that has had a bit of an influence on this fic.

**Sorceress/Witch Inheritance Powers:** According to the Final Fantasy Wikia, sorceresses can utilise telekinesis, teleportation, telepathy, mind control, mental possession, control over the elements, enchanting inanimate objects (e.g. the Iguion statues animated by Edea), projection of kinetic barriers, and the ability to move through solid matter.


	6. The Prodigal Son

Thanks for the review **Lecritic! **:)

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><p><strong>Chapter 6:The Prodigal Son<br>**

**Staff Quarters, Balamb Garden**

**9:00AM, J****anuary 18**_**  
><strong>_

_To: Quistis Trepe_

_From: Selphie Tilmitt (KINNEAS SOON :)))_

_Hey Quisty! Me and Irvine are on our way back to Balamb. You guys are still docked there, right? Figured it was time for a visit (and time for bridesmaid dress shopping!) seeing as things are going pretty awesomely at Trabia. You wouldn't recognise it here anymore! _

_We're bringing a guest with us… will explain more when we get there. Taking the train (woohoo! I love the Ragnarok but I miss that thing heaps) tomorrow morning, we should get in around 16:00 hours. _

_~ Selphie xoxo_

Quistis smiled. Having just sent a sombre Squall and Rinoa on their way to Esthar, this sounded like a perfect way to cheer the cloud that had come over the Garden. Clicking the attachments, she reviewed the photographs that were attached to the message. Trabia Garden looked quite remarkable, all things considered. Selphie had clearly been taking advantage of the access to Estharian engineering to improve and build upon the former structure. The technology evident in the pictures surpassed even Balamb's design specifications.

Amidst the repaired backdrop, a happy scene beckoned in the snowy T-Garden. Selphie, Irvine, even President Loire of Esthar appeared to be having a wonderful time at the official T-Garden re-opening. Quistis regretted not being able to attend the event, but due to the tensions with Galbadia it was deemed wise to keep the 'steady hands' of B-Garden – herself, Xu, and Nida – running the institute at full capacity. However, Cid and Edea had attended the celebration and there was a particularly touching photograph of Selphie standing in between the Headmaster and their former orphanage carer. Those two people were perhaps the closest thing any of them, with the notable exception of Squall, would ever find to compare with having their parents returned to them.

Closing the email, she stood from the terminal in her room and tidied the miniscule imperfections on the desk surface. Her desk, much the room in which it was located, was orderly and sterile. _Like me,_ she thought.

Oh, she had no shortage of admirers and would-be lovers if she had wished it. She had attempted to pursue a normal relationship for a time after the war had ended, taking up with a handsome and scholarly Estharian military leader, but the relationship had fizzled out quietly.

He had blamed her for the coldness that led to the demise of the relationship. She had not disputed the claim, and their liaisons had quietly ceased. Quistis knew that there was only one man who could bring forth that fire within her, only one. And he had just departed for Esthar with the love of his life.

She straightened her uniform and departed to the library. Entering the silent rooms was always soothing to Quistis' mood. The scent of old books, the quiet studies, and sense of purpose… it was a comforting place.

Zell's partner, heart-shaped face and brown eyes serious, stood at the library counter, filing a large stack of old reference books. They were rather handsome, leather-bound volumes, quite valuable and rare if she had to guess. She greeted the demure librarian.

"Hello, Quistis," she responded. "How are you going?"

"I'm well," she replied, reiterating her fake-it-til-you-make-it-mantra internally. "And you?"

"Ok, just a bit concerned about Zell. He's been so stressed lately."

"Understandably. The situation in Galbadia is putting everyone on edge."

The shy girl lowered her tone confidentially. "I guessed so. It's not just Zell who has been acting weirdly. Rinoa's been spending more time here than usual over the last few weeks. And you know this was always been one of her favourite places to begin with."

"Do you think perhaps she was just seeking a little solitude? I'm sure you've seen the reports."

She bit her lip, then spoke slowly, reluctantly. "It wasn't just that. She was researching, mostly, when she came down here. Old reference texts," she clarified, pointing at the stacked books that she had been sorting.

"What type of information was she researching?"

"Things about sorceress-related…" she paused, choosing the next word cautiously, "Afflictions. Which I of course understand – I can't imagine how it would feel, I would want to know everything that I could too. But lately she had been reading more and more around the social impacts of sorceresses, looking at chronicles of the wars that happened two or three hundred years ago. The build-up and issues leading to them, I suppose you could say."

Quistis was thoughtful. That wasn't entirely unexpected – as she had said, it was natural for Rinoa to want to learn more about the history of sorceresses and their powers. But the focus upon warfare was troubling. "Tell me more about the afflictions."

"She was researching quite heavily old texts relating to possession and…" She stumbled through the next word in a rush. "Insanity."

"I see. Could you please direct me to some of the volumes she checked out? Perhaps if I can understand the source of her discomfort, I can offer some support."

In the end, Quistis retrieved five heavy tomes, all centred on sorceress magic. They were so old and seldom looked at as to have been missed in the Garden's digitisation of their library materials. A quick skim of the contents of the largest book told her that it was not going to be easy to winnow out the information that had so plagued Rinoa. Quistis left the quiet girl after that, thanking her for the information and assuring her that it would be treated confidentially.

She could only hope that Rinoa's consultation with Doctor Odine would yield some useful information to help the troubled young sorceress. She resolved to talk with Squall upon his return. Surely, Rinoa had to see, that the turmoil in Galbadia was not her doing? Quistis had taken General Caraway for a duplicitous type of revolutionary at first glance – he who had supported Vinzer Deling and raised him, and then turned when he was ready to pluck that ripe piece of fruit for his own once the regime had been established. Following the toppling of Ultimecia, then possessing Edea's body, it had been inevitable that there would be a _coup d'état_.

Perhaps that was the source of her anxiety – for all of the antipathy between father and daughter, Rinoa was Galbadian herself. Surely it would be tempting to seize power, given the lengths that she had been prepared to undergo to secure Timber's freedom, under the auspices of providing a just and fair government.

The thoughts chased themselves around and around in her mind. She resolved for the interim to focus upon her duties for the day. One step at a time.

* * *

><p><strong>Staff Quarters<br>**

**10:15PM, January 18**

Quistis sat at her desk, and selected a volume from atop the pile of books sitting ominously at the foot of her bed.

A chapter titled 'Ephemera' been ear-marked, presumably by Rinoa. Quistis began to read…

…_it is inevitable that all must fade. The impermanent nature of existence is that which imbues it with meaning, for only that which can be lost can be valued. This too is true of sorceress power, which in spite of the historically demonstrated tendency of such witches to prolong their lifespans, declines and fades, requiring new blood to invigorate and nourish it. It is perhaps _mono no aware_, the notion that all is truly evanescent, that must be realised within the self. Avoidance of this concept is a common conceit, but when a succession of witches endeavours to fight against that which is fated, it is a grave threat indeed…_

The next volume was entitled 'Hyne's Blessing: A History.

…_truly, one must consider that the argument that containment of Hyne's powers within a select chosen few constitutes an ultimately unfair endowment for a privileged elite. Would it not be better for society as a whole for these attributes – power over the elements and, in the most powerful witches, over time itself – to be more equably distributed within the greater populace? The answer, simply, is no. It is not for mortal man to question the will of Hyne, and there must be a certain puissance of the blood in witches – a quality that the average person does not possess._

_However, with greatness comes a fearful burden. Being a vessel of Hyne's power invariably takes a toll upon the mortal body, with marked changes (commonly hair and eye colour, manifestation of wings, symbols inscribed into the skin – increases to physical stature and strength are also not unheard of) perfecting the vessel into Hyne's image. As the toll bears down upon the body, it must bear down upon the mind also, for the puissance does not shield the mind from decay…_

Quistis continued reading well into the small hours of the morning. When she at last fell asleep, she was left with more questions than answers.

* * *

><p><strong>Balamb Garden Quad <strong>

**9:30AM, January 20**

"So, like, you get it, right Quisty?"

"Run it by me again, Irvine."

"Seifer wants to return to the Garden. Says it's his home, and he's kinda right on that score. Zell will shit, but he'll come around. Squall will shrug and say 'whatever'. And we could use him on the team."

Quistis glared at the lanky sniper in the cowboy hat. This was the same argument that he and Selphie had presented last night, and it held just as little appeal for her in the morning as it had the previous evening. "No, I don't get it," she replied bluntly. "Seifer tried to kill us. On more than one occasion."

"He was possessed, Quistis, you know that. Even Rin betrayed us when that bitch had her hands on her mind."

Selphie was tripping over to the two of them, holding a tray with steaming coffee and slices of cheesecake.

"Mmm, just what I need after that long trip!" She munched on a piece of cake, managing to swallow almost the entire thing whole. Quisis averted her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I just can't see it. Perhaps I'm not as forgiving as the two of you, but… he made his choice. It was not to side with us."

Selphie reached over and laid her hand upon Quistis'. "He's choosing to side with us now. He's… he's been broken, Quistis. He wants to redeem himself. We're the only people who can give it to him."

A small thread of doubt wended through Quistis. _Perhaps he could… No! _She recognised the small voice for what it was – her Instructor's instinct coming to fore. The desire to bring the student back to become the man he should have been.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but how would you propose we reintegrate him into the Garden?"

Irvine looked relieved that she had finally shown something that wasn't flat-out rejection of the idea. "He'd have to re-enrol as a student. Go through his exams and everything. He'd be a perfect student. And you and Squall have the power to send him packing if he doesn't behave."

"That sounds like Seifer's worst nightmare. I'll need to talk it over with Cid and Xu, but… I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, Quistis!" Selphie said brightly. She lowered her tone confidentially. "Don't tell him I said this, but Seifer needs this win pretty bad."

Irvine smoothly passed her a blisteringly hot cup of coffee. She sipped at it pensively. "Let's go and have a discussion with him."

* * *

><p><strong>Balamb Garden, Second Floor Classroom<strong>

**10:35AM, January 20**

Seifer Almasy, the cocksure, traitorous, would-be knight, stood leaning against the wall of Quistis' former classroom. He looked… changed. There were subtle signs; the darkly golden hair a fraction too long, and a new watchfulness in the jade-green eyes, like a hunted beast aware of the predators surrounding it. Others were more overt; his coat was in tatters, his cheekbones raw and sharply defined, no doubt from malnutrition. The only item that was in excellent condition was his gunblade. Hyperion gleamed, razor-sharp dark metal with a dull sheen in the classroom's fluorescent light. Fleeting memories of that blade held at Rinoa's neck whilst Adel bore down upon her. _Don't think about that now. _Steeling her nerves, Quistis squared her shoulders and walked confidently into the room.

"Hello, Seifer."

Quicksilver emotions flashed on his face – contempt? relief? anger? – too rapidly for Quistis to determine his mood.

"Instructor," he greeted her.

"It's Deputy Commander, now, actually."

Seifer nodded. Clearly, he had already known of her change in duties at the Garden, and had chosen to open the meeting by greeting her with her former title. Quistis took it as an indication that Seifer wished to return on his terms; this would need to be dealt with firmly.

"Selphie and Irvine have informed me that you wish to return to the Garden."

"Yeah, I do."

"Why? You turned your back on this place over a year ago."

"Because it's the only place that's home." The words were quietly, almost humbly, spoken, utterly unlike the Seifer that Quistis knew. It was then she realised that Selphie was correct. He was broken.

"If the Headmaster and Commander agreed to permit your return, how would you propose to re-integrate?"

"Train and fight. War is my resume, same as yours, Instructor. I'm good at what I do. And I'd be a strength to this place."

"What of Fujin and Raijin?"

"We went our separate ways a while ago. They're gettin' married. Working out of Galbadian Garden to fix the joint up. They don't need me around."

"I see… and what of Squall and the team? How would you propose to avoid conflict?"

Seifer gave the barest hint of a smirk, a glimmer of the young fighter that once was, and replied, "I wouldn't. There's always gonna be clashes between me and Leonhart. But we'd settle them in the Training Centre."

She folded her arms and stared at him over the rims of her glasses. "I cannot guarantee that the others will be forgiving. But I will try to negotiate your admission with Squall and the other senior staff. In the meantime, your former dorm quarters are yours once again. I advise you to go there, rest, and prepare yourself for classes. You begin at 0600 hours tomorrow morning."

Seifer did not respond verbally, merely nodded brusquely and swept past her. This was not going to be easy… however; the truth of the matter was, following the war the number of experienced SeeDs has declined. Many had been lost in action, others had formally resigned, the distaste of actual war pushing them away. Seifer was a loose cannon, but as he had so pithily said, war was his resume. If they could mend what had been broken… brutal pragmatism told her that he would be a formidable ally indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

The outline for this story is finally finished! Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

So…. Library girl with a pig tail. Why, Squaresoft, why didn't you give her a canonical name? I haven't found a consistent fanon name, either, unfortunately. Suggestions are wide open!

**Mono No Aware:** Is a Japanese term that is difficult to translate. It refers to the wistfulness and regret that everything is fleeting and ephemeral. It is suggested as a theme of FFVIII according to the Final Fantasy Wiki, and more information is available on Wikipedia.


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